The Journey Home
by graywolf-X
Summary: One man's determination to return to a home he once knew...his odyssey and those who take the journey with him. r+r
1. Chapter 1 Andariel's Bane

The Journey Home  
  
Chapter 1 - Andariel's Bane  
  
The stranger wrapped his cloak tightly around himself, as though trying to squeeze whatever warmth was left in the flimsy length of cloth. His hood concealed his face, just as the cloak concealed the shining armor beneath. He leaned against an old war chest, his dragon shield and sheathed sword piled beside him. He kept himself well away from the fire in the midst of the rogue encampment, where many warriors and adventurers were gathered. He wanted to keep a low profile, and kept a wary eye on any who would happen to stray near him.  
  
He tried to sleep, but the roar of the merry crowd around the fire kept him awake. It was well into the night, and the adventurers were busy boasting to each other their various exploits in the battles to rid the Tamoe Highlands of the demonic infestation and clear the Rogue Pass. The fighting had been going on for weeks, and the stranger had been there for a good length of the time. When he had first arrived, somebody had boasted of killing a certain Corpsefire in a nearby cave. That night, he had heard some assassin boast of finding great treasure in some abandoned tower, while hearing a barbarian dismissing the feat as nothing compared to his crushing the head of a certain Blood Raven. For all he knew, that Blood Raven could have been some red bird; for he himself had not participated in the fighting. He simply listened, and the last interesting bit of news that he heard of was the rescue of Deckard Cain. After all, he had known the man during the wars he had fought in Westmarch and Khanduras. Other than that, he spent most of the time huddled in his place in the rogue camp, eating nothing more than leftover bread and water. He had also noticed the looks given him by several of the adventurers, and knew that they had derided him as a coward and free-rider. While he would normally mind such insulting thoughts on his honor, he was in no rush to go to battle. He didn't feel the need to.  
  
"Good evening, stranger."  
  
The man looked up, and saw a middle-aged woman robed and hooded in purple looking at him. Her kindly, old eyes set him at ease, something that he hadn't been for weeks. Nothing more than a few words had been said to him during the last few weeks, and was anxious whenever anybody would say anything to him. He nodded, careful not to reveal his dark-skinned face to the woman.  
  
"You must be the priestess Akara," he said, trying to conceal his accent. "Is there something wrong?"  
  
"I noticed that you're the only able-bodied man not to enter combat," she said.  
  
"I'm sorry if I am wasting camp space," he said. "If you wish, I will compensate you and your rogue followers in gold for a place to rest my head at night."  
  
"Our camp is open to all who seek refuge," the priestess said, smiling. "I do not ask for payment. I simply find it strange that a man like you would shy away from combat, Sir Cyrus Origen Belisarius. I wouldn't think that the Wolf of Westmarch would suddenly lose his teeth."  
  
The man bolted upright at the mention of his name. His hood fell, revealing his face to the priestess. His piercing brown eyes stared at the kind woman before him. "How did you recognize me?"  
  
"The heraldry on your shield is unique to your house." Akara sat herself on his bulky war chest. "So, will you tell me why a Paladin would miss an opportunity to shine the glory of the Light on a demon-infested battlefield?"  
  
The young paladin sighed. "I have seen my share of war. I left glorious Kurast when I was only sixteen. I have served a tour of duty spanning the breadth of Sanctuary, from the tropical island of Lycander, to the cold steppes of the North. I haven't had a breath of my homeland's air for ten years now. After leading the Paladins of Westmarch against mad King Leoric's armies on my superior's orders, I am have become world-weary. My sword is rusty, and my shield is dented. I just want to go home."  
  
"I see," Akara said, nodding her head. "That explains why you don't fight. But why don't you eat? I've noticed that you never get in line for the camp meals."  
  
"I'm fasting," Cyrus said. "Besides, the food is for the warriors. I am not among those fighting.I do not deserve to eat their food."  
  
"I see honor still follows you," she said. "But I have a feeling that you'll be eating the same food, in time." She gave him a knowing smile, and left him to his business.  
  
The paladin shook his head. He took another glance at the adventurers by the fire. He saw many powerful men and women, and in his heart, he felt that they were enough to contain whatever threat would come from Hell's gaping maws. He even saw some familiar faces. Cerularius, Andreus, Eldric..all were members of the Hand of Zakarum, the same order he served. Their presence among the warriors and adventurers gave him peace of mind.  
  
"God help them all." he muttered as he slumped back onto his war chest.  
  
~~~  
  
The next few days passed in an almost dream-like state for Cyrus. He spent most of the time drifting slowly between consciousness and slumber. His battlefield bread rations sustained him, but the lack of activity left him with little else to do. He had become intent on waiting it out until the rogue Monastery has been cleared.  
  
But one morning, he felt apprehension within the camp. It was already midday when he woke up, but the skies were overcast. Rain pelted his face, but it wasn't the wetness that bothered him. He heard moaning and words of anger and fear. He saw the warriors and adventurers that were harbored within camp withered of their former confidence and bravado. Various adventurers were streaming back to camp; most were wounded. Some walked back into camp, while others were carried back in. Others brought dead comrades with them. Defeat was written on all their faces. On one side, he noticed a hulking barbarian hunched over a wounded comrade, shouting words of encouragement to the dying warrior. Scenes of the last war he had fought in flashed in his mind, and the pain of those memories returned.  
  
Out of compassion, he summoned his strength and got up to end his detachment from the rest of the adventurers. He calmly approached the barbarian and laid a hand on his shoulder. He knew he risked angering the agitated man, but the healing warmth radiating from his hand calmed the fur- clad North man. The warrior looked up at him.  
  
"What happened here, friend?" asked Cyrus.  
  
"My brother," the barbarian said. "He is the slayer of Blood Raven, and the destroyer of the Smith. But even as he defeated that monster of the forge, he could not escape the anger of his steel. I dragged him all the way back here, along with the Horadric Malus. I am afraid that while he deserves the honor of the reward, he may not live to take it."  
  
Origen knelt down and observed the wounded brother. His face was contorted as he wrestled with the pain. As with barbarian fashion, he refused to scream in pain, for it was a sign of weakness. "He does not want the wounds to win," said the North man.  
  
"Then, let's give him a hand."  
  
Cyrus clasped his prayer beads and began chanting in a soft, low voice. As he prayed, a blue glow surrounded his body and enveloped the heavily-wounded barbarian. Slowly, his grotesque wounds began to close, and the bone jutting from the his side began to set back into place. The pale, dying color of his skin disappeared, replaced by a healthier tone. His face became more relaxed. As Cyrus ended his prayer, the barbarian's eyes opened. The large warrior immediately sat up.  
  
"What happened?" he asked. "I thought my spirit was headed for the Halls of Bul-Kathos!"  
  
"Brother! You're alive!"  
  
The barbarian brothers laughed and slapped each other's shoulders. Cyrus smiled and made preparations to heal another wounded adventurer. But before he could get far, the healed brother gave him a bear hug. While the six-foot paladin was far from being small, the huge barbarian effortlessly picked him up and crushed his ribs, all while praising the wonderful "medicine man". After a few seconds, Cyrus was forced to tap the man's arms.  
  
"Can't.breathe."  
  
The barbarian let him down. In the process, the hood fell from his head, revealing his face. The barbarians did not recognize him, though, and turned their attention elsewhere. Cyrus turned his attention to the other wounded, praying over the severely bloodied and administering final rites to the dead. He gained strength for each that he had redeemed, but the large numbers of wounded had him spent to the point of exhaustion. After healing a wounded sorcerer, he stood to return to his tiny corner near the camp walls. But when he turned around, he found the Kashya, the fiery rogue commander, standing in front of him.  
  
"About time you joined us, general," she said, glaring at him. "Oh, don't look so surprised. Who do you think told Akara of the heraldry on your shield? Are you through letting the fodder fight, o mighty one?"  
  
"No need to be hostile," Cyrus said, looking the embattled rogue commander in the eye. He felt the rest of the adventurers slowly gather around them. "I do not intend to usurp your authority. I just wish to."  
  
"Sit there and watch while the rest of us shed blood for your passage east?" she said, cutting him off. "Its not about authority. Why won't you fight?"  
  
Before Cyrus could answer, Akara came in between them. She lay a hand on Kashya's shoulder. "He has his reasons," she said. "Leave him be."  
  
"But we need him. We need all the swords we can get."  
  
"General!"  
  
Cyrus turned to see who had called. The voice was familiar. Out of the gathered crowd, a man dressed in plate mail made his way to the front. He somehow managed to squeeze his way in. Once he was standing before Cyrus, he fell to one knee and looked up to him.  
  
"General, it is good to see you here," the man said. "Since when did you get here, sir?"  
  
Cyrus dodged the question. "Get up, Eldric, and tell me where the rest of our brothers are."  
  
Eldric cast down his glance. "Sirs Cerularius and Andreus died leading the rear guard, sir. All of the warriors here, under Kashya's advice, decided it was the time to take the monastery in force. But she had anticipated our plan. A barbarian managed to kill one of Andariel's lieutenants, but that was our last great victory. As soon as we were all within the barracks, preparing to descend into the jails, the building was surrounded by flames. Wave after wave of monsters came at us."  
  
"We fought back as hard as we could," said an Amazon standing near the front, continuing the story amidst sounds of agreement from the other adventurers. "But the demon queen sent so many against us. We were overwhelmed. Even Andariel herself came out of her lair to add to the brunt of the assault. As our defenses were crumbling, the two paladins organized a small force to distract Andariel while the rest of us fought our way out of the trap."  
  
Eldric nodded. "After the others had managed to fight their way out, we faced Andariel. But the battle had left us weak, and with few potions between us, we didn't stand a chance of beating her. Sir Cerularius was killed. Sir Andreus ordered me to run, so I did. I wish I hadn't. I heard screaming..I don't think any of the rear guard made it back, save for me."  
  
Cyrus' fist was trembling as he heard the story, but he concealed it under his cloak. There are so few of us left, he thought. And now two more are dead.who would be left to serve the Light?  
  
He turned to Kashya once again. "Fine. You win. My sword is yours..."  
  
Young Eldric was elated. "It would be an honor to fight alongside you again, sir."  
  
His youthful excitement was contagious among the adventurers, all who were desperate for a reason to pick their spirits up. No sooner had Cyrus left them to find his weapons, they were already gathered around the camp fire, singing songs of vengeance and of regaining lost glory. But before he could get far, Kashya stopped him again.  
  
"So, what is your plan?" she asked.  
  
"I go along with whatever the group decides to do."  
  
"No, general, I was wondering if you had a strategy in mind."  
  
"Don't call me that. My commission is resigned. I'm just a plain paladin now."  
  
"You're not going to get out of this that easily. I'm sure you already have some plan in mind, something you would have done if you were in charge."  
  
Cyrus decided to indulge her. "My plan would be to attack at first daylight."  
  
Kashya was nearly dumbstruck. "What? These warriors are all newly healed! Many are still weary from today's loss!"  
  
"So will Andariel," explained Cyrus. "She's expecting an attack into next week, considering the damage she would think she had caused. If we wait for all these warriors to heal, she would have licked her own wounds clean and raised an army twice the size of what she used today. If we attack at first light, she would not be expecting it. We can have her play right into our hands."  
  
Kashya nodded slowly. "Alright, I'm listening."  
  
"We assemble most of the warriors into a massed force," continued Cyrus. "Let them wait outside the Monastery Gates. Andariel would be anxious to finish them off, and will send her demons out onto the open. Once the monastery has been emptied, a small force will sneak in and engage the demon queen. If you doubt my assessment, then, you can go ask Deckard Cain. That man has seen enough demonic behavior."  
  
Kashya nodded again, and left him. Cyrus went back to his war chest and cast off his cloak, revealing the rough-hewn surcoat of his order above shining ancient armor; an old relic of the House of Belisarius. He sat down, leaning back into his war chest again. He took his sword out of its sheath. The rune sword Shadow Cleaver gleamed dimly.  
  
"Well old friend, one more time before Kurast," said the paladin grimly.  
  
"Do you always talk to your sword?"  
  
Cyrus looked up and saw a young maiden and a large man standing before him. The woman had dark brown hair, which contrasted well with her fair skin. She wore the robes of an apprentice Zann Esu sorceress, covered by enhanced quilted armor. Her bright green eyes shone of innocence, and her smile radiated a warmth that seemed out of place in a camp filled with grim warriors. Her companion was a north man, younger and slightly smaller than the two brothers he had met earlier. He had wild blond hair, and skin made red from countless hours under the sun. His face was riddled with tattoos and battle scars. He wore a tattered chain shirt that barely fit his massive physique, as well as furs common to his homeland. The barbarian warrior carried his great axe on one hand, and a staff on the other. The sorceress was carrying an odd-looking bowl. Cyrus smiled bemusedly and sheathed his sword.  
  
"What's in the bowl?" Cyrus asked. "New potion?"  
  
"It's actually for you," the sorceress said sheepishly. "I was watching you for a while and noticed that you never ate. Now that you decided to fight and all, I thought you'd might want something to eat. Since all the bowls were used, I had to make do. Don't worry, its just good old camp stew!"  
  
She held out the bowl to him. Cyrus accepted graciously, and sipped the stew from the bowl's edge. When he had nearly finished, he noticed that the two were still there, watching him eat. They were now sitting on the soft grass.  
  
"I didn't catch your names," said the paladin, breaking the silence. "Mine is Cyrus Origen Belisarius. But most people call me Cyrus."  
  
"My name is Selene," said the sorceress. "My friend here is Dagan, of the Mountain Lion tribe. He is sort of like my bodyguard. He goes with me everywhere."  
  
"And what brings you to these lands?" he asked. "Though you are of the Zann Esu mage clan, you look far too young and inexperienced to be in the middle of a war zone."  
  
"I've been practicing magic for ten years now," she answered. "I spent a lot of time up north to perfect the use of cold magic. That's where I met Dagan. My mentor told me that he would accompany me, and keep me safe while my magic was yet to develop. I can't really tell how far I've come, that's why I came down here. I need to test what I have learned, though Dagan here has kept me away from the big fights. And besides, it was getting lonely up there."  
  
Selene was about to continue, but her barbarian companion interrupted her. Kashya was calling the attention of all the adventurers within the camp. The young sorceress grabbed her staff from her friend and hurried along with him to the camp fire. Cyrus stood and buckled his sword belt into place.  
  
And so it begins...he thought.  
  
~~~  
  
It was already first light, and yet the rain continued to pour. It was as if the bloodshed caused by the demons have rendered even the very heavens to tears. But it didn't matter. To Cyrus, all that mattered was that everything was moving as he had expected it.  
  
Once on the Tamoe Highlands, he had the warriors arranged into formation. The spell casters were placed in the rear, while the middle was filled with ranks of Amazon and Rogue archers. The frontline bristled with large barbarians and armed mercenaries, with a few paladins mingled in. Kashya herself had taken charge of leading the main body. Cyrus, as a point of honor, took up the task of leading the small strike force in. He had asked for volunteers the night before.  
  
With him were the warriors he had hand-picked to join him. The barbarian brothers he had helped, Olaf and Leif of the Whale tribe, were among the first to volunteer, and the first he had chosen. A young Amazon archer named Dyna was volunteered by her leader, the Amazon who had spoken up the day before. The Amazon leader said the young woman had potential, and was in need of a baptism of fire. With her came were two rogue guides, Alicia and Mina, who claimed to know the Monastery inside and out. The last member of the group was an old mage named Tarsil, a spell caster who had claimed to have battled Diablo himself in Tristram. The young sorceress he had met also tried to volunteer, but was wisely restrained by her barbarian friend.  
  
As expected, the Monastery Gates opened and the legions of Hell came pouring out. But from the massed formation of human warriors rose a dreadful battle cry, the likes of which sent the first wave of demons reeling back in fear. But a greater fear from within the monastery drove them into a mad, frenzied charge. The stream of demons from the gates came at a steady pace, as each new wave of demons smashed and floundered against the wall of well-prepared warriors. Arrows poured alongside the rain as death came to the demons from both sky and ground. Bursts of fire, ice and lightning trapped many of the demons within their own doom. Eventually, the stream of demons thinned out, though hundreds were already on the battlefield. As with the plan, the main body of warriors feigned a slow retreat further into the fields, drawing the huge mass of demons further away from the monastery. It was at this time that Cyrus chose to strike.  
  
The small group silently entered the gates. The Monastery was eerily empty, but the warriors kept their wits about them. Cyrus drew Shadow Cleaver from its sheath, using the low gleaming light as an impromptu torch as they entered the barracks.  
  
"I don't like the way the air feels," said Leif, who carried the brand new axe Charsi had forged from the Horadric Malus. "It's the same as when we first came in here."  
  
"The malice that hung over this place is yet to vanish," said his brother. "That, or the bitch queen is near."  
  
Alicia and Mina led them through the jail, and out into the Inner Cloister, with little incidence. But as soon as they reached the courtyard, they realized that not all the demons have been emptied out into the wilderness. They ran into Andariel's honor guard, the demons she usually surrounded herself with. The demon queen herself was standing by the Cathedral doors, apparently preparing to enter the battle outside herself.  
  
The demon queen was surprised by the sudden intrusion. She retreated back into the Cathedral, letting loose her demonic guard in order to weaken the invaders. The guard consisted of two battalions of goatmen, a large group of Yeti, an entire phalanx of spiked fiends, a small company of dark hunters and a host of undead. Both parties stared each other down, in a brief calm before the storm of combat.  
  
"Everybody ready?" Cyrus asked, tightening his grip on his sword and shield.  
  
"That's not important," Dyna answered. "Got a plan?"  
  
"Olaf, Leif, Alicia, Mina and Tarsil will stay here and keep these demons busy," said the paladin. "Dyna, you and I will try to break through and engage the demon queen. Does anybody have any objections?"  
  
"It is a good day to die," Olaf growled. His brother howled in agreement. A small smile formed on Tarsil's face.  
  
"Let's get to it then."  
  
Before anybody made a move, Cyrus prayed for the sanctuary of the Light to protect him and his companions. The strength of the Light crushed the undead host, which had brought up the middle. The barbarian brothers were the first to charge. Their vicious battle cries temporarily stunned the demons as the two leapt past the line of spiked fiends. The two warriors crashed into the goat men battalions, their weapons swirling in a violent maelstrom of rage and blood-frenzy. Blood and body parts of goat men flew and scattered around. Tarsil fired multiple ice bolts in rapid succession, temporarily freezing the spiked fiends in their tracks. The two rogues engaged the dark hunters in a duel of arrows, felling two with the first volley.  
  
Cyrus raised his shield and launched himself into the fray at breakneck speed. He smashed through the frozen spiked fiends in his path. Dyna followed closely behind. Cyrus ran on, and found the door within a few paces of him. But he found his way blocked by an angry Yeti. He stopped and raised his dragon shield just in time to block a furry fist aimed at his head. Dyna quickly jumped back, an arrow already notched on her bow. She let loose a quick volley of arrows as she strafed down the Yeti wildly bellowing near the door. Her assault dropped five of them with well-placed shots to their heads. Cyrus smote the Yeti in front of him with his shield, knocking the monster back. Then, he drove Shadow Cleaver straight into the beast's heart. The beast's carcass was pinned to the door. Cyrus kicked the beast through the doors and into the Cathedral as he pulled out his blade.  
  
Inside, Cyrus saw Andariel waiting for him. She was surrounded by Dark Ones, who rushed him as soon as they saw him. He prepared to meet their assault, but several fell before they could engage him. He noticed that Dyna had already followed him in.  
  
"Take out the Shamans," he said. "I shall go after Andariel!"  
  
Dyna easily killed both Shamans with well-placed shots, but it cost her in time. The Dark Ones closed with her and swarmed her, knocking her arrows away. She drew her scimitar and slashed at the crowding imps, allowing a berth for herself in order to mount her defense. The Amazon calmly parried the quick blows of the Dark Ones, slowly killing them whenever they proved too slow to recover.  
  
Cyrus came face to face with the demon-queen. Andariel hissed at him viciously, taunting him with hateful words. But his confidence was unperturbed. He could sense that she was still wounded. She was still covered in blood oozing from semi-open wounds, and Sir Andreus' sword was still sticking out of her side. Before the demon queen could launch her vicious magics at him, he charged her. Up close, she fought him in melee combat. Cyrus called upon his great zeal to slash away at Andariel's leathery hide, while the demon-queen tried to pound his heavy armor with her six arms.  
  
Cyrus' blows came much swifter, and soon, Andariel was visibly floundering. In one last desperate attack, her four larger arms grabbed his shoulders and torso and lifted him high above her head. The move caught the paladin unaware, and for a second, he was helpless in mid-air. But before Andariel could throw the paladin into a nearby pillar, the Amazon had managed to retrieve a single arrow lying on the floor. She picked up her bow and let fly the lone arrow straight at Andariel. Her aim was true, and the arrow struck Andariel in the right eye. The demon queen howled in pain as she dropped the paladin. Cyrus quickly regained his focus and hacked off one of Andariel's larger limbs with one strong blow. Then, he stabbed one of Andariel's scaly legs. When she fell on one knee, he moved in and plunged Shadow Cleaver into her throat.  
  
Before he could pull out his sword, Andariel's dying corporeal form exploded as the demon queen's hate and anguish burst from her temporal body. Her spirit was banished, screaming, back to the Burning Hells from whence she came. In the explosion, Cyrus was hurled back many feet, and was knocked senseless onto one of the Cathedral walls.  
  
When Cyrus regained consciousness a few minutes later, he saw the Amazon standing over him. She was smiling at him, the only time he head ever seen an Amazon warrior smile. He managed a weak grin.  
  
"Are you alright?" he asked.  
  
"I believe I should be asking that," she countered. "You're pretty reckless for a paladin, you know. Most paladins go by the book."  
  
"Daring and initiative are sometimes required in battle," he pointed out. "Where are the others? I am sure they would wish to celebrate this great victory."  
  
Dyna lost the smile on her face. "They're waiting outside."  
  
Cyrus gingerly got back on his feet and stepped outdoors, followed by Dyna. He was saddened by what he saw. Many of the demons lay dead, mostly mangled and mutilated. But among the goat men corpses lay the gigantic barbarian Leif, his new axe severed at the handle. The blades of many demonic weapons were lodged into his bulk. Not too far off was his brother, Olaf, also lying still in a pool of blood and body parts. At the other end of the courtyard lay Tarsil, crushed under the weight of a dead Yeti.  
  
Somewhere along the corridors lay both Alicia and Mina. Mina lay coldly on the floor, her chest riddled with arrows, while Alicia was impaled by a spear and pinned to the wall. At that point, even the legendary stoicism of the Amazon faded. She fought a losing battle to hold back the tears that ran down her cheeks. Both of the valiantly fallen rogues were the first and closest friends she had made among the Sisters, and had spent more time with them than even with her captain.  
  
Cyrus heard a loud gasp. He quickly rushed to the side of Olaf, who weakly clutched at his surcoat once he had knelt down beside him. As he prepared his healing prayer, the barbarian pulled him lower.  
  
"Olaf, you must be still," Cyrus said. "Or I won't be able to save you."  
  
"I am beyond help, my friend," the barbarian said.  
  
"No, don't say that!"  
  
The barbarian ignored his pleas. "Did you kill the bitch queen?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Is my brother dead?"  
  
"Unfortunately."  
  
"Then let me die, paladin," said the barbarian, his breath beginning to hitch. "My brother and I, we died honorable...warrior deaths on the battlefield..with the task accomplished...now I can go the Halls of Bul- Kathos...with pride and honor..."  
  
The paladin gently removed the barbarians hand from his surcoat and held it until he felt the great warrior lapse. He then administered the final rites. He crossed the dead warrior's forehead and said, "May eternal rest be granted unto thee, and may perpetual Light shine upon thee. Rest in peace."  
  
The paladin and the Amazon began the arduous task of hauling the bodies of the dead together. Cyrus administered the last rites to all of the fallen heroes, while Dyna watched in solemn silence. After blessing the dead, they gathered the weapons and skulls of the vanquished demons and lay them at the feet of their fallen comrades, while laying their own equipment above their heads. Cyrus then retrieved Sir Andreus' sword, and planted it on the soft earth near the courtyard's entrance. On the ground, he marked in runes the words: "In memory of fallen friends". After finishing with the inscription, he too, began to feel overwhelmed. He knelt before the sword and wept. The Amazon wept alongside him.  
  
Whatever bounty that could be gathered was placed within the Cathedral. Before the others could arrive, the two remaining warriors decided to claim their share. The Amazon looked at the pile thoughtfully.  
  
"You have first pick, paladin," she said. "After all, you killed Andariel."  
  
"No, m' lady," he said. "Your steady wits and your arrow led to Andariel's downfall. You have the honor of the hunt."  
  
The Amazon tentatively grabbed a shining suit of ring mail, carefully measuring if the piece of armor would fit her. She looked at the paladin, searching for some sign that the item was what the paladin had wanted.  
  
"You keep it," he said, anticipating her thoughts. "You need it more."  
  
For himself, he took only a small ring, and a helm to sell for a few gold pieces. He was tired, and the allure of war bounty had forever been lost to him. He looked once more at the mess that had been Andariel.  
  
It is done. The Light has won, and home grows ever near...he thought. Then, he looked at his fallen comrades.  
  
But at what cost?  
  
~~~ 


	2. Chapter 2 Desert Nights

Something I forgot...  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Diablo II. Diablo II and all elements and characters from the game belong to Blizzard.  
  
The Journey Home  
  
Chapter 2 - Desert Nights  
  
Warriv's long caravan rumbled out of the Rogue Pass and into the deserts of Aranoch. The mountain roads gave way to the soft and uneven sand of the desert, and the conditions of the terrain considerably slowed the pace down. The dozen wagons kept a steady line en route to the desert jewel, the city of Lut Gholein.  
  
The last wagon in the train was one of the largest, but only held four occupants. Cyrus, the paladin of the Hand of Zakarum, watched the landscape thoughtfully as the shadows grew long with the setting sun. He sat on the wagon's dusty floor, leaning on his war chest. His armor was stashed in the chest, but he held his shield, polishing it absent-mindedly while admiring the setting sun. Across from him sat Dyna, the Amazon that had survived the assault on Andariel alongside him. She was concentrating on fletching her arrows, many of which were ruined before they got fired. Further within the wagon was the north man Dagan. Like the paladin, he was watching the sunset as well. His young ward was at the front of the wagon, chatting happily with the driver.  
  
"You're not from Westmarch, are you, paladin?" Dyna asked, putting the last of her arrows aside. "No Paladin of Westmarch has dark skin. You must be from Kurast."  
  
"Indeed, I am," Cyrus replied, snapping out of his reverie. The mere mention of his homeland sent a wave of homesickness coursing through him. "I was born and raised in Ureh, east of Kurast. So, I consider Kurast as home."  
  
"Why are you so far from your home?" she prodded on.  
  
"Tour of duty," he answered nonchalantly. "I spent five years in the northern steppes. A year ago, I was sent to Duncraig. The Paladins of Westmarch were being girth for war, as rumors of Leoric's armies became more pronounced. My tour was supposed to have ended after war games with the Paladins, but the war occurred, and I was forced to extend."  
  
"How long have you been a Paladin?" she asked.  
  
"Ten years," he said. "I joined the Order of the Hand of Zakarum, the most militant of the orders. I was knighted when I was sixteen, at the top of my class. As soon as I was knighted, I was sent overseas by the Order, in order to supplement a manpower shortage worldwide. Haven't seen home since."  
  
"There have been several tales about your feats during the war told around the camp fire," she said. "You are but a year older than me, and yet you have the experience of a warrior twice your age..."  
  
"It is my fate, I suppose," he replied pensively. "How about you, Amazon? Your leader told me you were green, but no apprentice could have had the composure to hit Andariel in the eye with a single arrow."  
  
"She has high standards. To her, I am inexperienced," she replied. "I was a captain back home, so I am versed in arts of singular combat and small group tactics. But unlike the others that I had come with, I had never faced demons in battle before coming to that Rogue encampment."  
  
"What brought you with them, so far from home?"  
  
"I have my reasons... "  
  
Realizing that his new friend would not divulge any further, the paladin decided to make conversation with the barbarian, who until then had been content listening to the two.  
  
"So, Dagan, what brings you here?" he asked.  
  
"I have to keep watch over Selene," the north man replied. "She is only seventeen, and impulsive. I had to keep her out of trouble, but she has more energy that a ravenous bear cub. I shouldn't have been surprised she decided to tag along to Lut Gholein."  
  
"North men abhor magic, and rarely travel with mages," Cyrus observed. "Why do you follow her around like a nursemaid?"  
  
"It is a blood-oath," Dagan said. "Once, a Zann Esu sorceress saved the son of the Mountain Lion's chief. Ever since that day, the Mountain Lion tribe has pledged to provide Zann Esu sorceresses with protectors for as long as they request it, until such time that one of the tribe dies in the defense of a sorceress, and the oath our ancient chief made is fulfilled."  
  
"Oh, so you were assigned to young Selene?"  
  
"Yes. She was just thirteen then. Her mentor wanted someone to protect her, for the steppes are harsh to foreigners. I was just twenty- three summers old then, newly a man and a warrior. I was the nearest to her age as the chief could provide. I've been stuck with her since."  
  
The caravan wagon suddenly came to a stop. All three occupants bolted upright. Cyrus reached for his sword, while Dyna strapped on her quiver. Dagan already had his axe on hand. They braced for an assault. But instead of a screaming, blood-thirsty demon, Selene's smiling face appeared at the wagon's entrance.  
  
"They said the we're stopping for the night," the young sorceress said. "You should all come to the fire."  
  
~~~  
  
Cyrus quietly snuck away from the crowd gathered around the fire. He wandered around the makeshift camp, occasionally peering out into the sand dunes. He had a bad feeling in his gut, but he could not tell why. He walked over to where the horses were tethered. He approached one of the restless mares and stroked the animal's nose.  
  
"You like horses, Cyrus?"  
  
Cyrus turned and saw Dyna standing right behind him. He smiled. "Yes, I do."  
  
"Do you ride often?"  
  
"I haven't ridden a horse in six years," he replied wistfully. "The north men didn't like riding, and the Paladins of Westmarch were mainly infantry. I haven't mounted a steed since my days in Lycander. It's the only Amazon Island with enough flat plains to ride around in."  
  
"You were in Lycander?" she asked, a hint of surprise in her voice. "When?"  
  
"Lycander was the first stop of my tour," he replied. "I spent four years there. Beautiful place."  
  
Before the Amazon could ask another question, Deckard Cain interrupted them. The wizened old Horadrim sage approached them, carrying a small pouch.  
  
"Good evening," he said jovially. Cyrus returned his greeting politely.  
  
"What can I do you for tonight, Sir Cain?" he said.  
  
"I promised I would return this when we met again," said Cain. "And, between the fall of Tristram and Hell's minions...here I am."  
  
"Glad you made it back," Cyrus said, taking the pouch. "You were brave. Your efforts in Tristram bought us enough time to push back Leoric's offensive."  
  
Cyrus opened the pouch and took out a golden ring. He placed the ring on his right ring finger.  
  
"I've heard of your little stunt," Cain said, laughing. "Didn't think you could run from this war, did you?"  
  
Cain laughed as Cyrus fell silent, with the young woman left confused about what Cain was laughing about. Then, Cain excused himself to go to bed. A few minutes after Cain left, Dyna violently shook Cyrus' shoulder.  
  
"What is it?" he asked, irritated. But Dyna's gaze was turned to the rolling sand dunes in the horizon.  
  
"Shadows..." she said, her voice almost a whisper.  
  
"I don't see anything," he said. "Its probably just fatigue. You're beginning to hallucinate."  
  
~~~  
  
The next morning, the caravan started off again. Cyrus, Dyna and Dagan were once again lazing around in their almost empty wagon, with Selene chatting with the driver again. The morning was uneventful, and the group wiled the hours away in silence. Dyna sat near the entrance, polishing her golden basinet. Dagan sat near her. The bored barbarian was counting the desert cacti the wagon had passed. Cyrus was further inside, praying and conducting his spiritual exercises.  
  
Suddenly, the wagon came to a halt. This time, all three occupants remained indifferent. Suddenly, Cyrus bolted upright. He sensed something nearby, something that he knew he didn't like. His piercing brown eyes grew wide, and a frown formed on his face. He slowly took his sword, his grip on the handle tightening.  
  
"Something wrong?" Dagan asked. "Demons?"  
  
"Worse..." Cyrus snarled.  
  
"What could be worse than demons?" the confused north man asked. Suddenly, an almost pale, raven-haired woman in ebony chainmail appeared at the wagon entrance.  
  
"The caravan leader Warriv said my prisoner and I can hitch a ride if we can find a wagon with room," the woman said. "Got room?"  
  
"Yes. Come aboard," Dyna said. She turned to Cyrus, smiling. "Scared of mage-slayers, Cyrus? Worse than a demon? Not a very gentlemanly thing to say to a woman..."  
  
"Not her," Cyrus said grimly. Then, the assassin's prisoner came into view.  
  
"The necromancer.."  
  
In one smooth motion, Cyrus raised his sword, pointing it at the necromancer, and launched himself. But before he could reach the death mage, he felt the tree trunk-like arms of the barbarian stop him cold.  
  
"Its not worth blood, Cyrus," Dagan said. Cyrus, still enraged, looked down. The assassin's great talons were a hair's breadth from his throat, with the long middle talon already pressed to his skin.  
  
"Easy, tiger," the assassin said in her silky voice, smiling at the paladin. "If I wanted him dead, I would've done it myself. As the case is, my Order needs him alive, and I don't intend to return with a pale, useless corpse."  
  
The necromancer looked amusedly at the paladin with his gaunt eyes. The platinum-haired death mage laughed, straining at the chains that securely bound his hands.  
  
"Oh my, several days in a cramped wagon with a short-tempered zealot," he remarked. "And I thought Hell could wait 'til I was dead!"  
  
"Just get on board, Melchor," the assassin said, exasperated. She turned to the paladin. "By the way, my name is Viene, and mages do not call me the Black Widow for nothing. So, keep away from my prize."  
  
"As you say, mistress," the necromancer answered sarcastically as the assassin half-dragged him in. He looked at the paladin once more. "Oh come now, boy, I'm sure charity is written somewhere in your code. I mean, we could share this rickety old wagon with a servant of the Light, couldn't we?"  
  
"I'd no sooner toss you overboard," Cyrus growled. It took a few more seconds before Dyna and Dagan could manage to calm him down. He retreated back to his spot, seething.  
  
"My hero..." the necromancer said sardonically, looking at Dyna. "You won't regret it. Once you die, I will make you the prettiest zombie in all of Sanctuary!"  
  
Dyna looked at the pale old man with disgust, and moved further in. Dagan eyed the assassin and the necromancer warily. He and his people were no lovers of magic, and as a people that honored their beloved ancestors and fallen warriors, they found the dark death arts the most abominable of all magic disciplines.  
  
"Better watch your tongue around here, desecrator," said the north man. "Next time, I might find myself unwilling to hold my friend back..."  
  
"Do you make this many friends wherever you go?" the assassin asked her captive, sighing. "You'll have us walking under the accursed sun again with that charm of yours."  
  
~~~  
  
"There is no need to pray for your sanctuary, paladin. His hands are tied and there are no corpses around."  
  
"Consider it a warning," Cyrus replied curtly, staring down the assassin. "Personally, I don't see how you can let such a disgusting being live."  
  
"I don't like him anymore than you do," Viene said. "Heck, I'd be willing to toss gold pieces with you to see who gets to whack him. But right now, my Order needs him. I thought you, of all people, would understand."  
  
"What is he wanted for?" asked Cyrus.  
  
"Its classified," answered the assassin. "Besides, I don't need to give you another reason to kill my prize. The Order has set a hefty bounty on his capture too."  
  
"And so the real reason emerges," Dyna interjected. "Its all about the money, isn't it? Is it true that all assassins are bounty hunters?"  
  
"Few are genuinely, altruistically dedicated to the Order, much like the Paladins are dedicated to theirs," Viene said. "But the Order's leaders are wise. They knew how to attract members for its kind of work. After all, gold speaks the universal language."  
  
"What my 'mistress' is trying to say," Melchor said sarcastically. "...is that she's a money-whore. Ow!"  
  
The assassin had pinched his arm. "No more out of you, old man," she said.  
  
"Old man, my foot! Why I." Melchor muttered, leaving the rest of his words inaudible.  
  
~~~  
  
The rest of the day passed by uneventfully. As dusk approached, with the sun about to dip into the horizon, the caravans prepared to stop once more into the night. Cyrus noticed that Dyna was restless. While the others had already wandered over to the fire, Dyna stuck close to the wagon. Cyrus approached her.  
  
"Something wrong, Dyna?" he asked. He noticed that she was leaning on her bow. While he always carried his sword around due to force of habit, Dyna rarely went around the camp fire armed. "Expecting visitors?"  
  
"Something doesn't feel right," she replied. "I did see shadows last night. I have this strange feeling..."  
  
Suddenly, the wagon was hit hard. As it was about to keel over, Cyrus tackled Dyna out of the way. They hit the ground hard. Cyrus recovered first and shook his head to gather his wits about him. Realizing that he was on top of her, he immediately got up, somewhat flushed as he looked about wildly for the threat. His eyes fell on the creature that hit the wagon. It was a huge, brutish creature, with massive arms and a tiny head. It wielded a large club.  
  
"Blunderbores!" he cried in alarm. "How...?"  
  
"Saber Cats too," Dyna added as she got up, referring to the feline humanoids that came out of the night, hurling javelins.. She picked up a javelin that had landed right beside her and threw it back.  
  
Realizing the danger to the caravan, the two adventurers quickly ran to the campfire shouting out warnings of the impending raid. The travelers around the fire almost fell into a panic, if not for the swift organization of an escape plan by Cyrus and Warriv.  
  
"Warriv, take some people and try to empty the first three wagons," Cyrus told the caravan leader. "Pile in all the people. Leave everything non-essential. Make sure everybody, especially Cain, makes it to Lut Gholein. Those with weapons will try to hold the monsters off."  
  
"But what about you?" Cain asked, worried.  
  
"I'll meet you at the bar in Lut Gholein," Cyrus answered. "I swear on my honor, I will come. Now, go!"  
  
Fortunately, the wagons were parked in a straight line. The monsters ravaged the rear wagons first. With the warriors about to contain them in the rear, there would be enough time for Warriv, Cain and the other travelers to escape. While Warriv and some of the drivers rushed to empty the three front wagons, Cyrus, Dyna and the rest of those who could fight, scrambled to get their gear and meet the threat.  
  
Cyrus already had his sword ready. Unmindful of the fact that he had neither armor, shield, nor helm, he charged into the fray. In one great swipe, he decapitated two Saber Cats, then charged at a Blunderbore bearing down on Selene. The frightened sorceress threw a glacial spike on impulse, allowing the knight to shatter the hulking beast into a thousand pieces.  
  
"Are you alright?" he asked her. She just nodded, still shaken. The paladin quickly rushed into battle again.  
  
Viene buried her talons into the gullet of another Saber Cat, ripping out its entrails and scattering them over the desert sands. But for every Cat she killed, more seemed to come to take its place. Soon, she and Melchor were surrounded. Still, she fought madly, spilling Cat blood even as their weapons continued to wound her. The necromancer was left to dodging incoming attacks.  
  
"You had better free my arms, woman!" the angry death mage said, shouting over the noise.  
  
"Are you crazy?" the assassin replied, panting. "And let you escape?"  
  
"You don't have a choice!" he said. "You can't fight them all off alone. We'll both die!"  
  
The assassin finally gave in. Before the next wave of Saber Cats could come, she unlocked the chains that bound the necromancer's hands. The necromancer then raised his arms.  
  
"Now, I will show you power..."  
  
Dagan rushed back to the rear wagon to find his axe, only to find the wagon on its side. With his bare hands, he ripped the cloth that was the wagon's roof, and tried to search for his weapon within. But before he could do so, a large Blunderbore lumbered behind him and tried to smash him with its club. He skillfully dodged the blow. Taking a plank of wood, he waited for the next blow. The blow came, and he dodged. But the Blunderbore took its time raising the club again. Dagan hopped on the club and bashed the Blunderbore's head with his improvised weapon. He then went back in, and finally found his great axe.  
  
Dyna climbed onto the fourth wagon's roof, carrying her bow and arrows with her. She leapt from roof to roof, her lithe frame easily accommodated by the structure. From the roofs, she fired her enchanted ice arrows, using them to slow down the monsters to make for easy kills. She saw Dagan and Cyrus, their backs to each other, fighting off a four Blunderbores. She slowed one down with an ice arrow, and watched as Dagan whirled and cut the monster to pieces. Cyrus was in worse shape. Since he didn't have his shield, he was reduced to blocking the heavy blows with his weapon. While successful so far, the strong blows drove him back, preventing him from attacking. Dyna quickly let loose a volley of arrows. While the arrows merely irritated the huge demons, it bought Cyrus enough time. He called on his spiritual reserves and unleashed a mighty holy bolt. While the bolt did no damage, the flash blinded the stupid creatures long enough for Cyrus to hack off one's leg and slash the other across the belly in quick succession.  
  
Cyrus tried to catch a breather, but he soon found himself attacked by a new demon. This time, they were tall, skinny demons with four arms, each bearing a weapon. He braced himself as the first one attacked. While the demon had four weapons, it had little coordination, allowing the paladin to parry a few blows before breaching its guard and cutting it in half. As the demon fell, more came up to replace it. Suddenly, four skeletons rose around him, their skulls facing the demons. Without hesitation, the paladin burned away three with holy bolts, while smashing the skull of the fourth with a well-placed punch using his gauntlet-covered fist.  
  
The distraction nearly cost him, as three of the wiry demons were soon upon him. He would have been overwhelmed, if not for one being felled by three arrows, with the other two cut down from behind by the burly north man.  
  
"Are you alright? Those Sand Raiders can be pests!" Dagan called out. Cyrus got up and nodded.  
  
"We have to rally, and soon," he said. His eye caught Dyna leaping onto the roof of the fourth wagon as she jumped away from the fifth, which was being smashed by the new demons.  
  
"Near the wagon Dyna's on!" Cyrus said. "Quick!"  
  
The two warriors ran to the wagon and turned to face their enemies. Cyrus looked behind him, and saw that the three lead wagons had already left. He sighed in relief. The other fighters, caravan crew with crude weapons and paid mercenary guards, rallied around them as well.  
  
Dyna shot several arrows into the crowd of demons, felling some and greatly agitating others. The demons immediately went for the wagon, hoping to bring down the Amazon archer. This allowed the other fighter to outflank the monsters. Dagan hit one with a low blow, leaving the monster to be decapitated by a swift blow from Cyrus' sword. Beside them, a Sand Raider skewered two caravan crewmembers, twirling the impaled bodies in the air like a sick prize. Cyrus turned on the unwary demon and hacked off two of its arms, before slicing its ribcage open. Dagan leapt onto another Raider, knocking it down before splitting its head with his great axe. He roared in anger, causing some demons to flee in fear and for those that remained to lose what little coordination they had. Dyna was letting loose arrow after arrow at the targets below her, causing confusion among the demons on who to attack.  
  
The demons were beaten back, but at great cost. Only Cyrus, Dagan, and a few other mercenaries were all that remained standing of the small group. Dagan barely had time to down a red potion before the regrouped demons advanced again. Cyrus picked up the cracked round shield of a fallen mercenary, and braced himself.  
  
"It is a good day to die, e paladin?" Dagan said with glee. Cyrus shuddered.  
  
"Don't say that, Dagan," he said, remembering Olaf and Leif. "I want to see you walking tomorrow."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
Cyrus turned his focus on the advancing demons. He felt the fanaticism of his Order rise within him, thinking of the glory of the Light, and the aura of battle-hunger seemed to engulf the rest of the small group. He grit his teeth. Then, he charged, with a loud battle cry that could have rivaled that of a barbarian. After him, the other warriors followed...  
  
~~~ 


	3. Chapter 3 Paths in the Sand

The Journey Home  
  
Chapter 3 - Paths in the Sand  
  
He was running, straight into the night. It was dark, so dark that he could not see where he was, or where he was headed. He only heard a voice, prodding him on.  
  
"Where am I?" he asked as he ran, the darkness beginning to swirl around him. "Which way is home?"  
  
But he could not see anything. The voice didn't answer. It only called out his name.  
  
Cyrus...Cyrus...  
  
~~~  
  
Cyrus woke to the sound of his name. His eyes slowly opened, for his face was being stung by the direct sunlight. He felt someone over him, straddling his chest. He couldn't tell who it was, though guessing from the weight, he doubted that it was the massive north man.  
  
"Cyrus.....wake up, damn it!" whoever was above him said. The angry voice was followed by a rush of cold water.  
  
Cyrus violently shook his head as he sputtered. When he finally regained his composure, he found himself staring up at the faces of Dyna and Dagan. Dagan was carrying a water flask and a goofy smile on his face, while Dyna was sitting on his chest. She smiled softly for but a brief moment, but then frowned and backhanded him across the face.  
  
"Don't ever scare us like that again," she said, getting of his chest.  
  
Cyrus could not remember much of what happened after charging into the fray the previous night. All he could remember were swirling images of limbs flying and men and demons screaming. He did remember that they had fought all the way into morning. The last thing he saw before passing out was the sun, nearly full circle in the sky.  
  
"How long was I out?" he asked, picking himself up gingerly off the desert sand.  
  
"Three hours at least," said Dagan. "Dyna and I mopped up the remaining couple of demons after you fell. Then, we spent the last hour trying to wake you up."  
  
"What now?" Dyna asked.  
  
"Well, the sun isn't scorching yet," Cyrus replied. "We could scrounge through what's left for supplies, and look for survivors."  
  
He surveyed the damage of the last night's battle. Dagan's chain shirt was gone, only his furs remaining to act as a form of armor. But the barbarian himself didn't seem to be badly wounded. Cyrus' own mail undershirt was tattered, and his right gauntlet was slightly dented. Dyna had a few scratches, but was mostly unharmed. However, her quiver was already empty. Most of the wagons had been ravaged, with a few overturned. Even the wagon Dyna had been standing on was badly damaged, with a wheel completely shattered by some impact.  
  
'Not much left," Cyrus said. "Come, we must look for survivors."  
  
He caught a sudden look of fright on the barbarian's face. "What's the matter, Dagan?"  
  
"I forgot all about Selene!" he exclaimed. Cyrus found himself sharing his look of shock. The two warriors quickly ran from wagon to wagon, looking for the young sorceress.  
  
Cyrus found her first as he searched the last wagon in the line. She looked badly wounded, her quilted armor reduced to shreds. Her left arm was caked in blood, and seemed immobile. Her face was washed in blood as well, with blood running down as they mingled with her tears. She was kneeling over a corpse mangled nearly to non-recognition. Cyrus assumed it was the caravan driver she had grown close to the last few days. She was sobbing softly. Cyrus took pity on her and hastened to her side.  
  
"He tried to protect me," she said, her voice almost a whisper. "I couldn't do anything. My magic ran out on me and I was scared..."  
  
"Hush now," Cyrus cooed as the distraught sorceress fell into his arms. He tried to comfort her, while taking care to aggravate the injured arm. "Its alright..."  
  
"Why did he have to do that?" she asked. "He could've just ran and saved himself."  
  
"He chose to do a good deed," the paladin whispered. "Do not dishonor the sacrifices of others by wishing they had just ran away. Who knows? Maybe his sacrifice can lead you to do greater things in the future. If you do, then it is great honor to him. But the least you can do is live...I'm sure that was what he wanted."  
  
The sorceress took comfort in his words. When she had settled down emotionally, Cyrus felt his belt for a potion. Most of the vials had been broken in the fighting, but he managed to recover a rather large one, his last. He pulled out the cork and gently eased the red fluid into her mouth. The effect was almost immediate. Her wounds began to close, and her broken arm became movable again.  
  
He helped her up just as Dagan came running up to them. The north man bellowed happily, finding his ward safe. Selene ran up to him, and the two friends hugged each other as if they had been separated for years.  
  
"Don't go running off like that," Dagan said. "You know I can't watch you all the time."  
  
"I'm just glad you're alright," Selene sighed.  
  
"Me too."  
  
Cyrus saw Dyna looking through the wagon they had been riding. She was searching for something, sifting through the broken wood. He joined her.  
  
"Looking for something?" he asked.  
  
"Just my basinet," she replied. "How about you?"  
  
"I could use my armor," he replied. "And my shield. I hope they didn't carry off my war chest."  
  
Soon enough, the two found the paladin's war chest. The also found Dyna's basinet, but it was dented beyond effective use; almost flattened by something large that had stepped on it. As soon as they had managed to haul out the heavy chest, Cyrus donned his ancient armor and surcoat, as well as his crown helm. He adjusted the straps on his shield, tightening them. He also placed the money hidden in the chest into his pouch, knowing that he would not be able to bring his war chest along.  
  
"Your shoulder plate is off," Dyna observed as the paladin adjusted his belt. She stepped behind him and tugged at the straps, fixing the awkward plate.  
  
"What's the matter? Paladin need a nanny?" said a calm, cold voice from behind the two. Cyrus angrily jerked away and drew his sword. He knew all to well who the voice belonged to. He turned and brushed past Dyna, and saw Melchor standing atop a ruined caravan wagon. Viene followed closely behind, her dark armor stained red with blood.  
  
"Why is he unbound?!" he roared, addressing the assassin.  
  
"I had no choice," the assassin replied calmly. "Between a meeting with the Evils in Hell and having to stand the necromancer in the lands of the living, I say I choose to live. Besides, we are going to need him if we are to get to Lut Gholein. There are no other survivors..."  
  
"I, for one, am not looking for a tiff, sir knight," said Melchor in his usual sarcastic tone. "So, shall work together or get picked off after wasting our energies fighting each other?"  
  
Cyrus stood silent, considering the predicament. No paladin would even dare consider asking a practitioner of the dark arts to join his party. Certainly, not a paladin of high standing, who had commanded fellow paladins in battle. But he did not control the situation. He wasn't doing the asking. It was the desert.  
  
"Fine..." he said through gritted teeth.  
  
"Its settled then!" Melchor exclaimed. "By the way, you could exercise a little more discretion in the use of your strength. You destroyed four potential allies last night."  
  
"The undead you summon will never be my allies," he growled. "You summon them, and I will banish them back. No soul deserves the anguish of being under somebody's control!"  
  
The assassin placed a hand on the necromancer's shoulder, as if to tell him not to argue. Melchor smirked, then sneered at the paladin. "This issue is not settled yet."  
  
"The assassin is right you know," Dyna said while watching the necromancer's retreating back. "We need every man we can get. You're a general. You ought to understand."  
  
"Doesn't matter," he replied. "I still don't like it."  
  
~~~  
  
"Explain to me again why the desecrator has to come along," Dagan said, trying to disguise his irritation as he followed Cyrus and Dyna. Cyrus merely grumbled.  
  
"We need him," Dyna said. "We're all alone, vulnerable in the middle of the desert. We need every healthy pair of hands that could work and fight."  
  
The five travelers had already filled their packs with all the provisions they could carry. Food, and scarce water, were all that they brought aside from their weapons and armor. They set off near noon, with the sun already burning high in the sky. They followed the broken caravan road, their only hope for direction on the way to the jewel city. The road was unreliable, and on many instances, disappeared under the sands.  
  
"Ah, so the little sorceress managed to survive, after all," Melchor said, eyeing Selene. "I know I may sound insincere, with the vulgar company and all, but I really am quite glad to see another colleague in the realm of magical arts."  
  
"I am no 'colleague' of yours," Selene retorted. "I do not practice dark magic. Elemental magic is way better, and is not considered black by the Zakarum Church!"  
  
"Don't tell me you listen to those religious fops," the necromancer said, snickering. "You are such a child, letting a few outdated zealots determine which magic you can or cannot practice. Do you really think you can achieve true power that way?"  
  
"The Zann Esu have, without having to use black magic," she said. "Besides, black magic is evil."  
  
"So it seems," he said, bored. "Next time you and your elemental magic cower under a wagon cover, maybe I won't send my 'evil' minions to chase away the sniffing demons."  
  
Selene fell silent. She turned up her nose and walked faster, catching up with the barbarian and the paladin. She cast one last irritated glance at the necromancer before talking to Cyrus.  
  
"She's going to end up a paladin rather than a spellcaster at this rate. Certainly has the pompous righteousness of one," he said, chuckling as he turned to his companion. "What do you think, 'mistress'?  
  
"Our Order has a kill-on-sight philosophy with all necromancers," she replied dryly. "So, she has a point. Now, am I an over-the-hill religious zealot as well?"  
  
"No, not at all," he said slyly. "Just a money-whore!"  
  
"I should've kept your hands tied," she mumbled. "Or at least, your mouth gagged."  
  
~~~  
  
The small band traveled under the grueling heat for hours. The sun mercilessly ground them down, the withering heat causing a constant drain on their stamina. The desert road was already broken, hidden underneath the many dunes. The group was already traveling over sand, hoping that the road went on a straight line. By the time the sun looked on the wane, they were still searching for the desert road.  
  
"We have to stop," Melchor said. "It is useless going any further..."  
  
"What's the matter, old man?" Cyrus taunted. "Bones not strong enough?"  
  
"We need rest," the assassin concurred. "The sun looks just about ready to set anyway."  
  
"No, we move until the sun expires for the day," Cyrus said. "We should try finding the road first, while there is still light."  
  
"Yeah," said Selene. "We can still go a few more miles."  
  
He was at the van, leading the small party without looking back. But Dyna walked at the rear, and saw everyone. Melchor, hardly a specimen of physical endurance, was hobbling along. He had a look of determination on his face, as if he was refusing to give up just to spite Cyrus. He kept his cloak loosely around him, trying to protect his pale skin fro the sun. Viene was doing just as well. While her tanned skin was not as vulnerable to the sun, her face was soaked with sweat. She had already removed much of her dark, heat-absorbing outfit, save for her dark armor, boots and red cloak. Dagan was a picture of quiet endurance,. He was far from the cold climates of his homeland, and the heat was new to him. But he endured, soaking the furs on his back with water from his flask to keep cool. Selene, though determined to emulate the paladin, looked ready to collapse. Her walk was wobbly, and was relying heavily on her staff for mobility, like a crutch. Dyna didn't like the situation. She herself was feeling exhausted. While she was used to balmy weather, the heat was simply too oppressive. She clung to her loose cloak, hoping for a light desert breeze. Cyrus, on the other hand, marched on with dogged determination despite his heavy armor. But he was a general, used to forced marches under any weather condition. None of them were like him. Summoning her strength reserves, she ran ahead of the others to catch up with him.  
  
"Cyrus, we have to stop," she pleaded.  
  
"No," he said. "We stop at night."  
  
"The rest of the group are already worn out," she explained. "The sun has taken its toll."  
  
"The faster we get to Lut Gholein, the safer we will be," he countered. "And the way to do that is to find that caravan road. If we rest, we stand to consume some of the limited supplies we have, making future rest stops even costlier."  
  
"But if we continue at this pace, we won't even get to Lut Gholein!" she retorted.  
  
"What good would we be in Lut Gholein if we're dead?" Viene asked.  
  
"I'll get us there alive," he answered. "If you'll let me."  
  
Dyna snapped under the desert heat. She grew tired of Cyrus' self- assuredness. She grabbed him by the scruff of his armor and whirled him around. She slapped him hard, then pulled him up next to her.  
  
"Look at them!" she snarled. She saw his eyes scan the party, taking notice on how long his gaze rested on Dagan and Selene. "You stubborn, arrogant fool! What kind of a leader drives his followers to the ground? You are reckless, and unmindful of the condition of your comrades! I'm surprised they would even consider naming you a general!"  
  
The stoic, unmoved look on the paladin's face infuriated her more. But she forced her voice to a whisper. "I know you wouldn't mind losing the death mage. But think about your friends. Dagan is a north man, unused to heat. And Selene! The girl will drive herself to the ground trying to be like you..."  
  
Cyrus slapped her hand away. The act left the Amazon seething with anger. The two stared each other down.  
  
"Great! A break, and a show!" exclaimed Melchor.  
  
"You go on if you wish..." Dyna said, her voice almost feral. "But you're not dragging us to death with you! We're spending the night here..."  
  
Cyrus didn't look like he was about to back down. Instead, he turned and walked on, mumbling "do what you want" as he trudged over the sand dune.  
  
~~~  
  
All the party had were basic provisions of food, water, and potions. Within the rise of the dune, they made camp for the rest of the afternoon. The sun was already setting, so Dyna and Dagan gathered together bundles of dried brush from the sparse vegetation to make a fire. Once they had gathered enough, Dyna started a fire by imbuing one of her arrows with flame and setting it upon the brush.  
  
Dagan warmed himself by the fire, letting his soaked furs dry out as he sharpened his axe. Selene had passed out as soon as the fire was started. She slept quietly on the low rising slope of the dune. Melchor sat several feet away, his back to a large rock jutting out of the sand. Viene sat by the fire, keeping an eye on her necromantic prisoner.  
  
Dyna paced restlessly around the fire, looking around anxiously. She seemed so distracted, that she was drinking out of her empty water flask. Dagan noticed her behavior.  
  
"You don't think that he'd really leave us, do you?" Dagan asked.  
  
"I don't know," she replied. "Why the hell isn't he back yet?"  
  
"If you hadn't yelled at him..."  
  
"Then we'd still be walking."  
  
"Then, why are you so anxious?"  
  
"I don't know..." she answered as she sat beside the north man. "What if he gets killed?"  
  
"I highly doubt it," Dagan said, laughing. "He's strong. He'd be welcome in any Northern Tribe on any day!"  
  
~~~  
  
Deep into the night, he returned. All were already asleep. But Dyna heard his heavy footsteps. She woke to find him sitting on top of the dune, looking out into the horizon. She rose up and rummaged through her pack for some bread and dry meat. She placed the food on a tin and went to him.  
  
"Are you hungry?" she asked as she came up behind him. The paladin nodded his head.  
  
"I forgot that all I had in my pack was water."  
  
She sat down beside him and handed him the food. She looked out into the horizon as well, listening to the paladin grunt as he finished off the food.  
  
"How is everybody?" he asked, brushing away the remaining crumbs from his mouth.  
  
"They're all sleeping," she said. "Selene passed out, but she's fine now."  
  
"That's good," he said.  
  
"She would've been worried about you. Most of us were," she said. She turned to look at his face. He was still staring out into the horizon. "Look, about what happened earlier...we'll go at first light to find the caravan road."  
  
"I already found it," came the paladin's reply. "It's no more than half a mile from here, behind those dunes, just half an hour away. We could have reached it well before nightfall."  
  
"I'm sorry," she said, noting the triumphant tone in the paladin's voice. "But...why didn't you come back after finding it?"  
  
"And ruin your moment?" he asked, smiling. "Don't be sorry. You did a good thing, showing concern for the others. I can respect that. I wasn't about to ruin that and undermine you. Besides, there was a small oasis by the roadside, with a charming pond in the middle. So, I decided to go swimming."  
  
"A pond?" she asked. She also noticed that the paladin's hair was recently wet. She smiled and playfully punched him. "You bastard!"  
  
After exchanging play punches, the two settled down once more, facing the outward horizon while the rest of the party continued to slumber. The deep blue moon illuminated the desert's nighttime landscape, allowing the two much to stare at. But the silence was an unbearable cloak to wear. Dyna was far more used to having someone talk.  
  
"What is it that drives you, Cyrus?" she asked. "Why were you so bent on finding that road?"  
  
"I have always been that way," he replied pensively. "My childhood revolved around achieving goals. It comes with the family name. The House of Belisarius was strong."  
  
"What is it that you fear most?" she inquired, seeing that the thoughtful paladin seemed to be in a talkative mood.  
  
"Failure...dishonor...disgrace," he answered. "Especially in these times. There is much to fear."  
  
"What do you mean?" she asked, pushing further.  
  
"I've heard rumors, you know," he replied. "Rumors that Kurast had fallen, and that the High Council that we served, as well as most of our brethren, were corrupted by demonic influence. I never believed them. After all, Kurast is the greatest city in the known world. The Faith is very strong, and God Himself had promised that the Faith would never fall."  
  
"That is why I rush to get back," he continued. "I want to disprove the doubts in my head; to see for myself that everything is fine. But, I have seen what Diablo did in the West, and that Cain had said that he is headed east to find his brothers disturbs me. If the rumors are true...then all that I have worked for all these years would have meant nothing. And that would be the greatest dishonor of all. But I am tired, and I do pray that all the rumors are false. I just want to return home, and gaze upon the glorious city once more. Then, I can retire to the family manor, knowing that I have served with honor and that the world is a better place for it. I can spend the rest of my days of service in the High Guard of Travincal, never having to leave home again..."  
  
"That is a good dream," Dyna said.  
  
"I know, but..." Cyrus sighed. "I feel there are far too few of us paladins left. That is why I ordered Eldric to stay behind in the Rogue encampment. I cannot stand to lose anymore of our number. In the days of my ancestors, the Paladins of Zakarum were the greatest fighting force in all of Sanctuary. Demons fled at the mere sight of the golden cross emblazoned on paladin armor. But as the world grew safer, the smaller the number of young men who wanted to take up the call to arms. The decline was slow. Even in the days of my father, we were still glorious. But now...the class I came into the Academy with was the smallest on record. Many even dropped out in the middle of the formation into knighthood. Many paladins were retiring, and the crop to replace them was very small. There are too few of us left to crusade against the evil in the world. And if the rumors of corruption are true...then it shall be the greatest dishonor paladins will have to endure. If I allow that to happen, I would have failed in my life's mission. I would have failed my father. There shall be no rest for me."  
  
"Then, we won't let that happen," Dyna said reassuringly. "Before Diablo can head further east, he must go to Lut Gholein. We will stop him there. Then, I will journey to Kurast with you."  
  
"I appreciate the offer, but you don't have to," Cyrus said.  
  
"No. I want to," she said.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I...have something I need to do in Kurast."  
  
"What is it?" he inquired. The Amazon just smiled.  
  
"Some other time, paladin," she said. "I don't think I'm ready to tell anybody yet. Maybe over a drink in Lut Gholein?"  
  
"I'll hold you to that," he said, smiling.  
  
"But tell me something," she said. "What is your father like? I mean, you seem to live under his shadow."  
  
"Well, I wouldn't know where to begin," he replied. "All I know was that Origen Belisarius was a great general. His name is among those in the Halls of Valor in Travincal. But most of what I knew about him came from those who knew him. I myself never really got to know him personally. He died in battle when I was barely nine years old. My mother died of grief a few months after. My mother's brother took me in and raised me in Kurast. But basically, I'm still an orphan."  
  
"I'm sorry," she said.  
  
"Don't be," he said. "The one thing I did know about him was that he loved me, and had high hopes for me. I wanted to follow in his footsteps. He gave me a dream and a mission...a purpose in life. What greater gift could a man give his son?"  
  
~~~  
  
Early the next day, the small group swiftly packed up and moved on. Cyrus led them to where the desert road emerged out of the searing sand, and allowed a rest stop at the small oasis beside it. There, they refilled their water canteens and water skins, hoping that the water would be enough until the next oasis along the way.  
  
The sun shone cruelly once more over the dry sands of the Aranoch desert. The hot desert wind blew hard, painting the air with a humid, yellow hue from all the sand it had carried. Under the oppressive conditions, the small group continued to trudge on. They passed by many broken wagons and bleached animal bones, all evidence of the many perils that lay on the desert trail.  
  
"We won't reach Lut Gholein on these supplies," Melchor said, swishing the water inside his near-empty canteen. "We have to find and be able to carry more."  
  
"But where will we find more supplies?" Selene asked. Her own pack was almost empty.  
  
"Trust in Providence," Cyrus answered. Selene nodded, relived by the paladin's words.  
  
"Why not try looking instead of expecting God to hurl blessings at you?" the necromancer asked.  
  
"Don't test him, Melchor..." Viene whispered. "Its already bad enough as it is."  
  
"He's supposed to lead us," Melchor replied. "How is he supposed to do that when he tries to solve everything with paeans to some deity?"  
  
Suddenly, the air was disturbed by the high-pitched growls of Saber Cats. Cyrus rushed forward and saw a caravan wagon being ransacked by a pack of the feline hunters. He could not see any of the occupants, save for some limbs scattered over the desert sands. Yet, the fact that a few more cats were coming in from the desert suggested that the raid was fresh. Cyrus immediately thought of rescuing any potential survivors. He turned and motioned for the rest of the party to gather around him.  
  
"Alright," he began. "The cats have just raided, so there might be survivors..."  
  
"We could just sneak around them," Melchor suggested. "They'll be too busy to notice us."  
  
"Show some compassion, desecrator," Dagan retorted.  
  
"Its only logical, barbarian," Melchor countered. "It is not our fight."  
  
"Enough," Cyrus interjected. "We'll fight, and that is final."  
  
"Melchor, Selene, Dyna, you three form the back line," he continued. "Selene, you cast spells. Dyna, you know what to do. Melchor, summon one of your clay constructs..."  
  
"And some skeletons?" the necromancer asked with delight.  
  
"Out of the question," Cyrus answered, irritated. "Dagan, Viene and myself will take the front. C'mon, let's hurry."  
  
The group moved quickly, falling upon the raiding pack of Saber Cats in formation. Several ice bolts struck the first line of Saber Cats, slowing them down. Dagan smashed the frozen cats into icy chunks that melted in the desert heat. Cyrus immediately pounced on the Saber Cats on the wagon entrance. His first sword stroke cut across the chest of one cat.  
  
"Viene, on the roof!" Dagan shouted. The assassin nodded, and in a great feat of agility, scaled the wagon roof in one smooth motion. She knocked away the javelin in the Saber Cat's hand, before slitting its throat with her bladed talons. She casually pushed the dead cat off the roof.  
  
Dyna rained the few arrows she had managed to salvage from the previous battle upon the more recently arrived Saber Cats, crowding them onto one side of the wagon. Melchor's massive clay golem finished off several of them, mauling two cats with its great fists, before crushing a fallen cat under its great foot.  
  
Cyrus went after the three Cats already inside the wagon. He stabbed the one at the entrance, throwing off its dead body. The other cats inside rushed out to attack him. The first one leapt at him, snarling. Cyrus thrust his sword into the cat's mouth, the blade's point bursting out of the skull. Before he could pull out his sword, the second cat leapt at him, javelin in hand. Cyrus raised his shield and blocked the javelin thrust, then smote the feline humanoid as she landed.  
  
The battle was quickly won. The remaining Saber cats were routed, and fled screaming into the desert dunes. Cyrus darted inside the wagon to look for survivors, while the rest of the group gathered outside. A few moments later, he emerged, a scowl on his face.  
  
"No survivors..." he muttered angrily. He threw down his sword. "Damn it!!"  
  
~~~ 


	4. Chapter 4 Black and White

Chapter 4 - Black and White  
  
"The good news is..." Dagan said as he rummaged through the contents of the wagon. "...we got to the Saber Cats before they could spoil any of the supplies here. I think there is enough to get us to Lut Gholein."  
  
Cyrus did not hear him, though. He had just finished burying the wagon's previous passengers in the sand. Dyna was standing next to him, observing him silently as he went about the grisly work.  
  
"Its not your fault you know," she said softly. "You couldn't have helped it. None of us could."  
  
"This shouldn't have happened," he said bitterly. "I could have saved them. Maybe if I had acted earlier..."  
  
"They would still be dead," she finished for him. "Why are you so upset about this? Its not like you knew them."  
  
"They were people," he replied. "Innocent people. People men like me have sworn to protect. With every innocent death, I feel more useless."  
  
~~~  
  
"We have the wagon," Melchor observed. "But how do we pull it? One horse is dead, and the other seems to have run off."  
  
"We could try to find that other horse," Dagan suggested. "This wagon can be pulled by just one anyway."  
  
"Or, we could have you pull the wagon, my hulking friend," Melchor said, laughing. "Of all the silly ideas...that horse will be reduced to dry bones well before you find it."  
  
"Whatever we do, we won't be able to carry all those supplies," said Viene. She glanced at the necromancer. "I know you have something in mind, Melchor. Spill it."  
  
"I can raise that dead horse," he declared, his eyes gleaming. "It won't be as fast as a live horse, but it will be able to push that wagon untiringly."  
  
"Cyrus will never allow it," Selene said. "Its disgusting."  
  
"Of course, you're the only person here who still thinks the paladin is perfect," Melchor sneered. "In any case, I do not wish to aggravate our poor little hero while he mourns not having saved the day. We'll probably stay the night anyway."  
  
~~~  
  
Dinner had already passed. Cyrus sat by the low fire, leaning on the wagon wheel while watching the flames as they slowly grew weaker. He absent- mindedly threw more brush at the weakening fire, his mind lost in thought. Most of the party were already asleep inside the wagon. The only ones left awake were Cyrus and Dyna, who were both on watch. Dyna sat at the roof of the wagon, fletching the few arrows she had managed to salvage from the last battle.  
  
"Are you alright, Cyrus?" Dyna asked, looking down to him. "You were quiet during dinner."  
  
Cyrus mumbled an affirmative response, without breaking his loose concentration on the fire. Dyna sensed his depression, and was about to come down herself. A stirring within the wagon stopped her. She noticed someone coming out of the wagon entrance. It was Selene.  
  
Cyrus was jolted out of his brooding when Selene sat next to him. She yawned before giving him a sheepish, sleepy smile. The girl looked as though partially dazed, like someone who has had a bad night.  
  
"I couldn't sleep," she said, her voice somewhat raspy. "Dagan was snoring so loud, and I don't want to sleep next to Viene, or that crazy necromancer."  
  
"So, why did you come out here?" Cyrus asked. "You could have slept on the driver's seat."  
  
"To see what you were doing," she replied, before yawning again. "Besides, you might need help with the watch."  
  
"You know, you don't have to do everything I do," he said, amused. She simply smiled, and lay her head on his shoulder.  
  
"I like paladins," she said. "Though I've never really known one before."  
  
"That's rather strange coming from a sorceress," he said, barely containing his amusement. "We have little in common."  
  
"Well, before I was taken away by the Zann Esu, I used to live in Kingsport," the sorceress began. "My mother and father were both upstanding citizens, and devout members of the Zakarum Church. When I was a kid, I remember my mother telling stories of paladins, and dragons, and damsels in distress right before I went to bed. I would usually fall asleep dreaming of paladins.  
  
"There was even a time when I had wanted to become a paladin," she continued. "Before I was given away, I remember conjuring small blades of ice and playing swordfight. My father didn't like it. I never really knew my father. It was he that gave me away to the Zann Esu when I was seven. I still remember that day..."  
  
"What happened?" Cyrus asked.  
  
"My mother didn't want me to go," she went on, her voice shaking slightly as she remembered. "She held me tightly. But my father pulled me away. I could still hear my mother begging him to stop. I was crying too, but he didn't hear us. He gave me to the woman standing at the doorstep, the one who would become my mentor. During those first nights, I would cry myself to sleep. I would always recount the stories that my mother told me. Sometimes, I would tell those stories to whomever would listen before I went to bed. Whenever I remembered those stories, it was as if my mother was there with me. So, I decided to live by the things my mother taught me, even as I listened to my mentor teach me magic. I tried to follow the Way of the Light, the paladin code. My mother sent me a copy. It was a good thing the Zann Esu had no religious restrictions..."  
  
Her voice trailed off as she yawned. She leaned heavily on Cyrus' shoulder, but the paladin sensed that she was getting tired. He adjusted and allowed her to lay her head on his lap.  
  
"So, did you still want to be a paladin?" he asked, idly stroking the young woman's hair.  
  
"Nah, I had to become a sorceress," she answered. "We were supposed to find sword-fighting vulgar, so I never learned. We were also taught how be feminine and all that. They said it was part of 'holistic' formation, whatever that means."  
  
"I remember a song my mother used to sing," she said wistfully. "When I couldn't sleep, she used to sing it to me. I forgot what it was called. A song for...somebody. I think it was about a boy who wanted to become a knight. I loved that song..."  
  
"Was it 'A Song for the Squire'?" he asked.  
  
"Yeah, I think that was it," she replied. She looked up at him. "How did you know?"  
  
"My mother used to sing it to me too," he said. "It was the last I remember of her."  
  
"Do you miss your mother too?" she asked.  
  
Cyrus just smiled. Selene slowly relaxed once more. The paladin began singing in a soft, clear voice the 'Song for the Squire', while slowly stroking Selene's hair. The old lullaby was still familiar to him, as though it were only the other day that he had first heard it.  
  
Be brave little one, make a wish from your saddened tears,  
Hold your head up, though no one is near,  
An angel is waiting for you...  
Have faith, little one... *  
  
As Cyrus sang the closing lines of the song, he felt the young sorceress' rhythmic, relaxed breathing. She made soft, barely audible snoring noises. Cyrus sighed contentedly, leaning his own head back.  
  
From her perch on the wagon roof, Dyna smiled. It was different, seeing the paternal side of the hardened warrior - general. She felt a twinge inside her. She found herself looking once more upon the distant horizon, silently hoping that the man she was looking for in Kurast was like the paladin cradling the head of a young, vulnerable sorceress on his lap.  
  
~~~  
  
The next morning, the sun bore down upon the arid landscape with the usual cruelty of its daily rising. The hot desert winds were nowhere to be felt, increasing the power of the sun's searing heat. The heat was enough to wake every member of the tiny band. But the heat also prevented the party from moving on. It was too hot to travel, forcing the group to wait until the afternoon.  
  
The group ate a large lunch from the abundant supplies in the wagon. After lunch, it was time to move again. The debate on how to proceed with the wagon arose once more. Five of them gathered to discuss the situation, with Selene left out. Melchor believed she was too young and impetuous to be taken seriously.  
  
"So, how do you propose to move this wagon?" Melchor asked Cyrus.  
  
"We can't," Cyrus answered. "We gather as many supplies as we can carry, then continue on."  
  
"We can't do that," Viene countered. "If we carry too much, we'd be slowed down, and the fatigue will force us to consume all our resources before we get to the city. If we carry lightly, the supplies won't last us anyway."  
  
"Somehow, we must find a way to pull the wagon," Dagan said.  
  
"Cyrus, Melchor told me of his solution," Dyna said. "I think you should hear it."  
  
"Yes, yes." Melchor said, rubbing his hands together. "I propose that we raise the dead horse as a skeleton. And while I would be more than willing to take the reins, I cannot be driving morning, noon and night. I also propose raising another skeleton from the pile of rotting demons to be our chauffer."  
  
"Never!" Cyrus exclaimed. "No skeletons! I will not have you raising your abominations here, necromancer!"  
  
"Cyrus, there is no other way!" Dyna pleaded.  
  
"Are we that desperate?" Cyrus countered. "So desperate as to resort to the foulest of means just to get to the city?"  
  
"It's a means to end," said Viene. "Besides, Melchor will eventually face the Order for use of dark magic. Might as well milk it while we have it."  
  
"You know me, paladin," said Dagan. "I have no love for the desecrator. But its not like he'll be raising human skeletons. We need to survive."  
  
"I don't believe this," Cyrus snarled, walking away from the group in sheer disgust. The necromancer's grin only grew wider.  
  
"So, what will it be?" he asked, his gaze fixed on Dyna. "He is a fanatic. Somebody must make the right decision."  
  
Dyna glared back sharply, before going off to pursue the fuming paladin. He walked off to a good distance, well beyond ear-shot of the rest of the party. She caught up with him, pulling his arm to make him face her.  
  
"The skeletons are not human," she said, pleading with him. "Doesn't Zakarum teach that on Sanctuary, it is only the human soul that is immortal?"  
  
"Black magic is black magic," he replied. "A demon can't drive a wagon. Whose soul do you think he will rip out off the spirit plane to bind to that driver skeleton of his? If he doesn't do that, then he must spend every waking moment controlling that skeleton, which would defeat the purpose of raising help in the first place."  
  
"Why are you being so stubborn?" she asked. "Can't you relax your code, just for one damn instant?"  
  
"Every paladin that falls into darkness begins by asking that question," Cyrus shot back.  
  
"But what about Dagan and Selene?" she countered. "Will you let them die for your principles?"  
  
"Of course not," Cyrus said. "They will go on that wagon, and you will go with them. I will bear the weight of my principles alone."  
  
"They look to you for guidance," Dyna said. "They will not get on that wagon, not without you. Especially Selene."  
  
"Dagan has chosen his survival," Cyrus said. "As for Selene, Dagan will take care of her. And so will you. You won't let anything happen to them, right?"  
  
"Of course," Dyna answered, her voice resigned. She knew that he will never be convinced. "I just don't understand. Personally, I think you're being an idiot, putting yourself through this just for principle."  
  
"How dare you?!" Cyrus snapped. "I am a paladin, principle is my life! I dare you to swear on your weapon and say that to my father! You want to know how he died? He died fighting necromancers who had wanted to raid the Holy Resting Grounds outside Kurast for an ancient artifact under the Church's protection. My father led a small squad of fifteen men, battle- weary and outnumbered, to victory over an entire horde of necromancers and their minions. The leader of the necromancers surrendered. But beyond all battle-logic when fighting a powerful necromancer, my father showed mercy. Mercy to defeated foes is part of the paladin code, and my father upheld that principle. But when his back was turned, the necromancer launched a bone spear at him that pierced his battered armor and killed him. The fiend escaped, but my father died. He lived by his principles, and died by them. So, don't you dare say to my face that my father died for nothing! That I would die for nothing!"  
  
"I...I'm sorry," Dyna stammered. "I didn't know..."  
  
"Just go," Cyrus answered coldly.  
  
~~~  
  
When Cyrus returned to the makeshift camp, the wagon was already prepared for travel. The supplies were already stacked inside. And at the wagon's harness was an undead horse zombie. While the construct looked mostly skeletal, there some patches of flesh to allow it to fit into the large harness. Cyrus looked away, fighting the urge to destroy the creature.  
  
"I told you this wasn't over paladin," Melchor said, grinning triumphantly. "So, have you come to your senses on the usefulness of skeletons?"  
  
Cyrus ignored him. Dyna offered him a large water flask filled to capacity, which he briskly took and slung around his shoulder. He then picked up his sheathed sword and tied it to his belt. When he looked up, he saw Selene standing in front of him, clutching her long staff. She had a concerned look on her face.  
  
"You're coming with us on the wagon, right?" she asked.  
  
"No, I won't," he said. "But I'll be right behind you."  
  
"You'll walk?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I'll go with you," she offered. "I don't want to ride in that wagon either."  
  
"No, you must ride," he said. "You won't be able to walk that far."  
  
"But isn't it wrong?" she asked. "Isn't it wrong to ride in something pulled by that foul beast?"  
  
"Yes, it is," he answered. "It is convenient, but convenience is not an excuse for doing the wrong thing. People who believe as such must make sacrifices. However, you don't have a choice in the matter. I don't want to see you dead."  
  
"But, I want to make that sacrifice too," she stated boldly, her eyes set with determination. But Cyrus could see the fear in them as well. He would not allow it.  
  
"Don't worry," he said soothingly. "I'll be sacrificing enough for the both of us."  
  
He motioned for Dagan, who had been standing right behind her, to take her to the wagon. Dagan took her hand and led her away. But she looked back at him one more time.  
  
"Promise me that you won't leave us," she asked. "Promise me that..."  
  
Cyrus smiled. "I promise."  
  
~~~  
  
The wagon creaked and bumped along the rough desert road as the party made its way closer to Lut Gholein. It had already been four days since they set out on their undead horse-drawn wagon. The sun outside still bore the oppressive heat that swept the desert, but the group did not feel its burning sting. They sat, bored, inside the wagon as the skeletal driver drove along.  
  
Melchor sat shotgun, preferring to be by himself as was his usual. He found more comfort in the company of the undead, rather than with the living. He watched the vast expanse of desert. He knew he could easily escape. Nobody within the group had enough power to stop him. But he knew he must survive long enough to reach Kurast. It was the whole point of allowing himself to be "captured" by the assassin.  
  
The priests of Rathma were always searching for new ways to augment their control over the Great Cycle of Being. This need for arcane knowledge had been the driving force behind the secretive order, leading them into conflicts with other mage clans, and more significantly, the Viz-Jaq'taar Order of Mage-Slayers and the Paladins of Zakarum. While his captor, the assassin, was still around to keep an eye on him, he knew he was safe. It was the paladin he had been worried about. He felt better now that the paladin was gone.  
  
He parted the curtain separating the front seat from the wagon interior. He saw the Amazon sitting just behind him, twiddling with her bow. She had been unusually silent the entire time, and he knew why.  
  
"Don't look so glum, darling," he said, with his usual poker smile. "The change in leadership was a needed development. You are doing fine."  
  
She cast him an annoyed look. Shrugging, he closed the partition and watched the horizon once more. Looks like it will be a pleasant trip, he thought, as he shaped one of the bones he had kept into a sharp knife with his powers.  
  
At the rear of the wagon, Selene stared at the landscape outside. Her eyes fell on the empty road behind them. She had almost given up. During the first night, he was there, keeping up with the wagon. He walked as fast as he could, trying to match the wagon's pace. But Selene noticed then that he was falling further behind. The next day, she woke up to find him gone. She thought he had merely been left behind, and would show up as soon as they stopped. But she hadn't seen him since his disappearance. She had but little hope.  
  
He'll come back, she thought.  
  
"He won't be coming back," Viene said, noticing her far-off stare. "So, you should stop looking."  
  
"He will," she said defiantly. "He's a paladin. He will keep his promise."  
  
"He is a fanatic," Viene said dismissively. "Fanatics are blind followers. He will follow that code to his own death. His beliefs will count for more than a promise to a pathetic little girl. You want to know where he is? Either he is dead in the sand, or off to save some sand maggot in distress."  
  
"He will come back! Paladins always do!" Selene retorted, defiant almost to the point of tears.  
  
"Will you stop being so naïve?" Viene said. "Paladins are not the heroes who rescue princesses and slay dragons. They are as human as you and me. I've seen paladins that were as petty as desert bandits and as brutal as any demon Hell can produce. Granted, such paladins are classified as 'fallen', but who is to say that Cyrus cannot fall? Who is to say that he cannot make mistakes and fall into darkness? So stop being such a starry- eyed little girl. Grow up! He's not coming back!"  
  
Selene shrank back, turning to the barbarian beside her. Dagan, who had been listening to the short exchange, placed a large arm around the sorceress.  
  
"Do you think he's coming back?" she asked him.  
  
"Oh, I think he will," he said. "Watching my brothers-in-arms defend Mt. Arreat, I have seen my share of fallen paladins. Cyrus is a man of honor. He won't fall so easily."  
  
"I expected more smarts from you, barbarian," Viene said. "But I suppose intelligence was never the forte of the barbaric peoples."  
  
~~~  
  
It was already the fifth day. For once, the clouds came in force, and the sun's mighty heat was blunted under the cover of a stratospheric blanket of white vapor. Travel was easier for the party, who had welcomed the dissipation of some of the punishing desert heat. They were also nearing their goal, the shining jewel of the desert, the city of Lut Gholein.  
  
Dyna sat on the roof this time, relishing the cloudy-day winds that swept through the desert. Her strawberry-blond hair whipped wildly in the wind as she pulled her cloak about her. Slowly, she scanned the distant horizon behind them. There was still no sign of Cyrus, nor of any other travelers. But she took heart. Lut Gholein was just a day's journey away.  
  
Suddenly, the wagon stopped. She heard voices, but she could not make out what was being said. She shouted out to Melchor, who had been sitting in front almost the entire time.  
  
"Bandits!" screamed Melchor from below. Immediately, Dyna sprang into action. She stood and turned to see where the bandits were.  
  
Below her were several blue-clad nomads. Each had his or her face concealed under a turban and a layer of cloth across the face. The only visible feature of their faces were their eyes. They each brandished a shiny scimitar, but had other weapons as well. The leader, on horseback, already had her sword to Melchor's throat. The necromancer looked coldly on her, seemingly undaunted. The other bandits carried crossbows, while a few carried ropes with hooks attached to the end.  
  
"Not today..." Dyna whispered to herself. She took one of her few remaining arrows from her quiver and notched it to her bow. She pulled back, and let the arrow fly. The projectile flew at a straight path for the leader's head. But somehow, the leader caught wind of the arrow, and intercepted it with her bare hand. She pointed to her and uttered an order to attack.  
  
She barely had time to react. A hook quickly attached itself to the roof of the wagon, followed shortly by its thrower. The blue-clad bandit tackled her, knocking her quiver to the ground below. She punched the man's back, as he latched on her, grappling with her. Using all the strength she could muster, she turned on her side. The bandit had not expected the counter, and the hold was soon reversed. The bandit was now the one underneath. Dyna straddled the startled thief and repeatedly punched him in the face.  
  
Inside the wagon, Viene lashed out at the first bandit who tired to enter. Her claws caught him across the face, leaving a vicious wound and a torn costume. She then kicked the man out. Before anymore could enter, she swiftly dove out of the wagon, rolling softly on the sand after executing a graceful move. She got up and soon found two scimitar-swinging bandits on her. She parried one attack with her left claw and gave the attacker a swift side kick to the throat. Then, without bringing her kicking foot down, she whirled into a heel kick that smashed the other attacker's jaw. But as soon as the two dropped, four more charged to take their places.  
  
"A little help here!" she cried out over the din.  
  
Dagan punched another attacker that had tried to take the entrance. The man was knocked senseless. He heard the assassin's call for help. He grabbed his giant axe, but before leaving he turned to Selene.  
  
"As soon as I get out, seal the entrance with a wall of ice," he instructed. Selene meekly nodded.  
  
Dagan rushed out with a roar. But another bandit was waiting on the roof. As soon as Dagan's head was exposed, he clubbed him with a mace, knocking the barbarian unconscious on the sand.  
  
Before Selene could seal the entrance, the bandit jumped in. He brandished his mace, taunting the frightened sorceress. But Selene would have none of it. Despite her fear, she got up and hit the man with her staff. She thrust her staff at him, forcing him to the entrance.  
  
Melchor was busy himself. He parried the bandit leader's blows with his long bone knife. The bandit leader did not even bother getting off her horse. She just hacked at him, allowing him no time to concentrate his powers on raising any of his minions.  
  
Viene was overwhelmed by the number of attackers facing her. The first attacker tried to come at her with an overhead blow, but she countered by slashing his belly. The second attacker came at her from the left. She dodged his strike, then leapt into the air and kicked him at the back of the head. She landed on a hand-spring position, her hands to the ground as she broke another attacker's neck using her legs. While she managed to kill three of them, the fourth knocked the wind out of her with a vicious blow to her stomach. She fell on the sand, doubled over in pain. She could only watch helplessly as the bandit raised his scimitar, ready for the killing blow.  
  
But out of nowhere came the sound of a running horse. The sound quickly grew closer. Before the bandit could bring his scimitar down, a clean stroke of a sword took his head off, sending it flying toward his companions. Viene looked up at her savior.  
  
It was Cyrus, on horseback.  
  
The holy knight was radiating a powerful aura of Might, as he sent his horse charging once more into battle. He scattered the bandits gathered around the unconscious barbarian, and pulled off the one Selene had been fighting. He brought his sword down on the hapless bandit, as the others ran away, suddenly frightened by the paladin's grim Conviction. Before Selene could react to seeing him, he quickly wheeled his horse to the side and charged to the front to meet the leader of the bandits.  
  
The leader caught sight of him. She quickly abandoned Melchor and charged on the knight, her sword raised high in the air. Cyrus rode on, undaunted. When their paths met, she brought her scimitar down on his head. But Cyrus managed to get his shield up, causing the blow to bounce harmlessly off the steel. At the same time, he thrust Shadow Cleaver upwards, catching the bandit leader's throat. She fell dead from her horse, her blood painting the desert sands a cruel dark red.  
  
But the paladin had unfinished business. He rode the horse to the front of the wagon, where Melchor was. He waited as the staggered necromancer sat up on the driver's seat. He looked at him straight in the eye, pointing his sword at the undead horse.  
  
"Dismiss this abominable creature," he ordered, with great satisfaction. "We won't be needing it anymore."  
  
~~~  
  
The group had already resumed their journey to Lut Gholein. Cyrus' horse was already harnessed to the wagon, with Melchor holding the reins. The stronger, faster horse pulled the wagon at a greater speed. Inside the wagon, the barbarian had already regained consciousness after some of the paladin's healing prayers. The group, save for the necromancer and the Amazon on the roof, had already gathered around Cyrus.  
  
"I told you, he would come back!" Selene exclaimed, her eyes sparkling as she taunted the assassin.  
  
"You have to tell us where you have been," Dagan said. "We were worried about you."  
  
"Yeah, you just disappeared into thin air," said Viene. "Why did you do that?"  
  
"Its actually quite funny," Cyrus began. "I stepped on some horse dung while walking at night. I realized it was fresh. So, with only my sword as a light, I looked down and saw spatters of horse blood. It was the blood of the other horse that got away. So, I quickly broke away from the road, and followed the blood drops on the sand. By morning, I had already found the wounded horse near a small water hole. I healed its wound, and rode it back to the road."  
  
"I would have caught up with you sooner," he continued. "But one night, I stopped near an old crypt for shelter. I thought it was one of those old, raided crypts in the desert. But I was wrong. The place was swarming with undead. As a paladin, I could not just leave the place to endanger other lives. So, I prayed for Sanctuary and destroyed every undead creature I could find in that tomb. I also found this..."  
  
The paladin held an object wrapped in bandages in front of him. He slowly unraveled the wrappings, revealing a beautiful, golden cube carved with ancient figures and designs.  
  
"What is it?" asked Selene.  
  
"That is precisely what I will ask Cain," Cyrus answered.  
  
There was a knock from the roof. It was followed by Dyna's voice. "We're near! You should all come out and see this!"  
  
The wagon stopped, and the rest of the party piled out. They were standing on a ridge. But beyond the ridge, after a large expanse of sand, was the great sea. But before the sea, illuminated in the night by the light of a thousand lamps, was the jewel of the desert; the port city of Lut Gholein.  
  
~~~  
  
* inspired by the Rescuers theme song (owned by Disney)  
  
Author: Hope nobody minds my adding some non-Diablo elements, such as horseback riding. I think it adds more flavor to the Diablo-verse. 


End file.
